


My Friend the Mothman

by snarkiwi



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, TAZ Amnesty, idk how tags work, indruck, only t+ for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 12:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkiwi/pseuds/snarkiwi
Summary: Duck Newton receives an urgent call from his friend the Mothman.





	My Friend the Mothman

Duck couldn’t sleep. He had spent hours upon hours staring at the ceiling, checking his phone, petting his cat. He had tried everything but nothing could remedy his insomnia. It had gotten so much worse lately. He could no longer get real psychic visions, but he could feel something dark looming in his mind. Itching at the back of his brain, like something was always over his shoulder. He could see flashes of the Quell, and of the abominations. Nightmarish creatures that haunted him, blocking out all other thoughts like a blot of ink.

  
He just wanted to sleep peacefully. Despite the impending apocalypse, and the death and the fear that surrounded him, he just wanted to rest. To at least have the illusion that he had a normal day for once. Duck checked his phone. 3:35 AM. He sighed and rolled over in his bed tossing his phone aside. A few seconds later, the phone started blaring a loud ringtone. Duck jolted up in his bed.

It was awfully late to be getting a call. Strangely enough, Duck was accustomed to getting calls in the middle of the night. Ned was constantly calling him at all hours of the night, oversharing on whatever scheme he was up to, oftentimes with a somewhat irritated Kirby in the background. Duck used to get those calls all the time. He _ used to. _Annoying as they were, he missed them.

So who was calling this time? It was a number that he didn’t recognize. But with all the recruiting in town and it being a local number, a voice in his head told him to pick up. _ ‘Who knows. Might be important.’ _Duck thought. He swiped his screen to the right, answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Duck Newton? It’s Indrid.”

“How did you even get my number?”

“I called every number until you picked up.”

“Huh-”

“I know things, remember?” Indrid paused, “Sorry. I just need to talk to you.”

Duck struggled to hear Indrid’s somewhat soft voice over the phone. The service here sucked.

  
  
**“I can’t hear you.” **Duck Newton heard his statement echo back in the call, as Indrid spoke the same sentence simultaneously.

“I knew you would be awake. Nobody is sleeping well. But I want to talk to you Duck. I need you to come to my place. It’s very important.”

Duck sighed. What did he have to do otherwise? Certainly not get a good night’s sleep.

He grabbed his jacket and keys and left the building. He zipped up his jacket and started the car completely on autopilot; his brain was too busy asking questions. Duck wasn’t sure whether it was fueled by the lack of sleep or the fact that Indrid was the caller. _ ‘Was something bad going to happen again? Couldn’t he tell me over the phone? Does he just want to see me? Nah that’s dumb. He said it was important. Maybe I fucked up.’ _He was speeding a bit as his mind droned on in the same confusing manner. He pulled off onto a dirt road that lead into the woods and parked where the path got too rough. He could see the sleek Winnebago parked amongst some trees, well lit from the inside. He exited his car, hoping that whatever Indrid needed to say to him wouldn’t end in disaster. He was so sick of disaster.

Duck could feel the warmth of the interior as he knocked on Indrid’s door. He was greeted with a knock coming from the other side of the door, at the exact same time. The door opened and revealed Indrid Cold, wearing his usual tank top and sweatpants.

“Sorry. That was sort of weird of me. Uhh, please come in.”

The warm air hit Duck’s face like a brick wall. It was pleasant, but also somewhat overwhelming. As he entered the Winnebago, he could see it’s full condition. As usual, the air felt drowsy and slightly heavy. There were papers and maps and pushpins all on the walls, and crumpled papers on the floor. His feet crunched a few as he took a few steps in, and Indrid shut the door. There were definitely more wadded up papers on the ground than usual. _ ‘Not a good sign.’ _ Duck thought to himself.

Indrid gestured to the coffee table and urged Duck to sit down. He poured two glasses of eggnog and set them down, brushing aside torn paper bits and a broken pencil. Duck could tell by Indrid’s movement that it had been a while since he had slept. They were both exhausted, but Indrid was usually a very alert person. Now his face looked grim and tired, and his body slouched over more than usual. He sat down on a stool on the opposite wall and faced Duck. He took a sip of his eggnog and looked thoroughly worried when he broke the silence.

“Please excuse the papers. I’ve been- well that’s sort of what I wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah? Oh and it’s uh, fine.”

“Duck. I know you know about my visions, and that since the world could quite literally be coming to a close, there’s bound to be...less futures. Or at the very least lots of outcomes will end in the eradication of our world and of yours. I’ve been isolating myself lately. You might have noticed this. And the truth is, Duck, I’m so afraid,” Indrid said, wringing his hands and letting his head fall. “I’m afraid, and I’m not supposed to be afraid! Ever since I was on the court in Sylvain, ever since I came to be, I’ve known everything. Everything that could go wrong, or anything that could go well. I thought I was supposed to be able to help this world. And I could warn you, and the others. This world is supposed to be so predictable, like it always was. The normal, though sort of depressing and uneventful experience of living on Earth. It’s always supposed to be predictable. But now everything’s changing and I’m just scared. Because it’s not just change, it’s the end, Duck.”

“You mean there’s no way out of this?”

“Well, my mind has never been this bad before. I feel so dull because, well, there’s so many holes in my mind. The television screens are all turning to static, one by one. It’s going dark, and it’s starting to drive me crazy! Any time I sketch out a somewhat promising future, it disappears. And I’m forced to tear it up. I can’t let myself be hopeful anymore! What good is a SEER that can't SEE ANYTHING?” 

Indrid’s volume suddenly increased tenfold, and he stood. He looked unfathomably frustrated as he wiped a whole chunk of sketches off the wall. He then grabbed a blue pen off the table and scribbled violently on the back of one of the fallen papers. Duck moved to the edge of the seat, partially to see what Indrid was drawing, but mostly out of concern and fear. He could see a dark blue blot of ink in the center of the paper, filled with terrifying eyes and parts of creatures. Duck felt chills go down his spine as he realized he had seen this before. It was the Quell. Indrid was shaking as he was drawing, and had an expression of absolute terror. 

“That’s all that’s left. That’s all that’s left.” Indrid said to himself, in a hushed, panicked tone. He suddenly grabbed his head and fell to the floor in despair and pain. At this, Duck stood up, the air losing all of its drowsiness. 

“Duck. I-I- You have to help me.”

He walked around the table, trying not to trip on paper. _ ‘Help him up, stupid. Don’t just stand there!’ _

Duck approached Indrid’s crumpled figure, knelt down, and helped him up. He was rather cold to the touch, despite the temperature of the room. Duck threw his arm around Indrid, and walked him to the couch. He brushed a few papers off the cushion and moved aside a pillow so there was room to sit. 

“Can I...get you anything, Indrid?” Duck asked, placing his hand on Indrid’s shoulder, which was shaking slightly. Duck reached over and took the glass of eggnog off the table. “You want some nog?”

Indrid took a sip and his mouth turned into a slight frown. He took a heavy breath, attempting to calm down. Duck looked at Indrid, seeing his own reflection in the metallic red glasses. He couldn’t help but wonder if the eyes behind those lenses looked as tired and lost as the rest of Indrid. If they were looking at him. _ ‘Oh shit, I’ve been staring into his eyes haven’t I?’ _The corners of Indrid’s mouth turned up slightly, as if stifling a grin. He took a deep breath and spoke.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so emotional there. It’s just been a long time coming and it’s really starting to take its toll on me.”

“I get what you’re saying. No offense but, you look pretty tired. Pretty rough. But I’m worried about you, and you need to take care of yourself. I totally get that you’ve been stressed out because you can’t see anything. We’re all scared. But it’s okay to be scared, Indrid. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only thing you can do. But I don’t think this is the end.”

“You don’t? But what—what about my visions?” he stammered.

“You’ve seen plenty of timelines end before. Every single paper you’ve ripped off the wall is a possibility. If you’ve seen so many bad endings before, wouldn’t that mean the apocalypse could have already happened by now? A-And take all the times you called me, for example. You called me and warned me about what could be the end of Kepler; the end of the world. And guess what? We’re still here. Despite the visions, and the attacks, and the losses? We’re still here.”

Indrid was looking directly at Duck, and making an expression that Duck couldn’t quite place. It looked like both confusion and clarity, love and sorrow. It was strange, but whatever it was it made Duck blush a bit. He broke the moment by averting his gaze a bit and continuing his impromptu pep talk.

“We can’t just sit on our asses and wait for the apocalypse to take us all. It’s because of you that we’ve been able to stop it before, and if there’s even a fraction of a chance that we can make it—heck, even if there ISN’T a chance— then we’ve gotta get up and fight.”

“Duck, I… Thank you for being so level headed. You’re right, this isn’t the first time I’ve been worried like this. We’ve been near to the destruction of humanity and of life on earth as we know it several times before. There’s always been these threats, and I’ve been afraid before. I almost up and left because they seemed too strong. I felt so guilty for not being able to stop the things I saw in my head. But I hate living on the edge and being filled with just this constant dread for the future,” Indrid said, finishing his glass of eggnog, “But that really changed once I was able to contact you. I remember being so scared. Ready to give up, really. But I decided to give you a call, because somehow, I sensed your potential. I knew you three were special. I was so ready to just run away again, but you took the path that led to the one-in-a-million chance positive outcome. And you know what? It felt really really good to be wrong for once. It’s extraordinary what you can do, Duck Newton. Your quick thinking and special abilities can essentially change fate.”

Duck felt his heart beat fast. _ ‘God, why is my heart beating so fast? Am I...? No, it’s just anxiety. Damn, I guess I have to tell him about my powers.’ _He turned towards Indrid and replied nervously.

“Look, Indrid. I appreciate what you’re tellin’ me. Really, it means a lot. And I’m really sorry to let you down, but I’m not the ‘chosen one’ anymore. I don’t have any of those visions, or skills, or anything like that anymore.”

Indrid’s face quickly changed from a look of surprise to a genuine smile. It was a lovely smile, the kind that makes you feel all warm inside.  
  
“Duck, you can think that all you want. What you have isn’t about being ‘chosen.’ What I’m talking about is just who you are. I know that we aren’t extremely close. Which, I mean we could be, if you want to hang or anything I would love that! Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble,” Duck felt butterflies in his stomach. Indrid cleared his throat and continued, “But I’ve seen you. You, and Aubrey, and—” he paused, “and Ned. You’ve always had so much potential.”

Duck smiled back, he couldn’t help it.

“I just can’t watch the world go dark around me. I want you to promise me—”

“Of course,” Duck said, before Indrid could even finish his statement. Indrid saw that he didn’t need to. “Of course.” There was a minute of silence before Indrid chuckled a bit. Duck raised his eyebrows as if to ask why.   


“I’m sorry, I just realized I may have overreacted. I made it seem like a matter of life and death when I called you. But I’m not dying. We both seem pretty okay. Minus the apocalypse and all.”

“No need to apologize. Impending doom and lack of sleep is enough to put anyone on edge. And sometimes you just need to talk about it. No, you don’t have to apologize, man. I’m here to talk to you anytime.” Duck said, placing his hand on Indrid’s leg reassuringly. Indrid smiled and placed his hand on top of Duck’s.

“You’re a kind spirit, Duck Newton. I appreciate it. Truly, I do.” 

Duck’s stomach was turning. But not just with regular anxiety, or even ‘end of the world’ anxiety. God. He hadn’t felt this since middle school. _ ‘Huh. I have a crush on the fucking Mothman. That’s a thing that’s happening now, I guess.’ _

“I really want you to be okay. For everyone to be okay, I mean. I keep telling myself that it might seem improbable with nothing but Kepler going against a force like the Quell, but you know what? Fuckin, shooting fire outta your hands and vampires and werewolves and stuff being real didn’t seem to make any sense either. But now I’m friends with the Mothman and I’m **sitting right next to him.**” Indrid said as the same words left Duck’s lips.

_ ‘Shit. He’s cute...no, stop thinking that. Don’t make this weird. He’s sitting closer than I thought. Now there’s an awkward silence. Say something damnit!’ _

Instead of saying something Duck let out an enormous yawn. _ ‘Classy.’ _

“Oh you must be tired, you should head home, I understand.” Indrid leaned forward, pulling his hand away from Duck’s and making a funny face at a paper sitting on the table in front of them. He frantically grabbed it and crumpled it into a little ball and held it tight in his hand. _ ‘What was that about?’ _

Duck stood up and said, “I’m glad I could help you. You should try to get some sleep yourself there, Mr. Cold. We’re uh—we’re gonna make it through this. I swear.”

** “Take care of yourself,” **they both said, and gave one last smile. Duck turned and walked to the door. Indrid looked down at the paper ball in his hand, his smile lingering.

Duck shut the door behind him and stumbled down the concrete steps, not noticing the bitter cold biting at his skin. _ ‘That could’ve ended better.’ _ Duck walked down the path leading back to his car briskly. He got in his car as quickly as he could, shutting the door behind him. _ ‘No, it went fine. He just wanted some help.’ _He exhaled deeply, mildly frustrated with himself, and started his car, pulling out of Indrid’s driveway. 

He drove to the end of the dirt road, somewhat preoccupied. About halfway down the path, tiny snowflakes began to fall. As he turned onto the main road, he absentmindedly reached to zip up his jacket, but found no zipper. _ ‘Shit. Left my jacket on his couch.’ _He paused, and decided to go back for it. Not only was it starting to snow, but his wallet and ID were in the pocket. He had been so worried about making the situation awkward that he ran out with all of his stuff sitting on the couch.

He turned around in the nearest driveway and headed back to the trail. Duck groaned as he felt those stupid butterflies in his stomach again. _ ‘God, Duck. Stop...having a crush on the Mothman,’ _he thought as he turned his windshield wipers on high.

The falling snow made the trip back quite a bit slower, but he made it back around 25 minutes after he had left. Duck exited his vehicle and ran to the door of the Winnebago, the ice stinging his face and arms. He knocked softly on the door. He was met with no response. He knocked again, his hand shivering this time. Again, there was no response. _ ‘If I stay out here any longer I’m gonna freeze. I just have to go in.’ _

Duck reluctantly opened the door, his arms feeling numb with the sudden heat. He resisted the urge to say, _ “Heya Indrid, I’m back, uhhh, 30 minutes later…miss me?” _ and instead just softly said, “Indrid? I left my ja–”

He cut his sentence short as he saw that Indrid was sleeping. He was still laying in the same position on the couch as when Duck had left, but had relaxed a bit. Duck couldn’t help but smile a little. He was glad to see Indrid resting. That he had been able to give him some peace of mind. _ ‘Jacket.’ _ Duck redirected his thoughts to his jacket, which was strewn over the back of the adjoining cushion. As reached for his jacket, Indrid caught his attention again. Not his face this time, but the sheet of crumpled paper that was resting on his thigh. Something in Duck’s mind told him that was the paper Indrid had crumpled up just as he was leaving. He paused, but then decided to look at it, letting curiosity taking over.

The image made his mouth hang open a bit. It was scribbled in blue ink in a style of striking realism. The page had two illustrations, both of which were very familiar. He instantly recognized the image of he and Indrid sitting on the couch together. There was a caption under it that read “He promises. And that’s all you need to hear.” Duck couldn’t help but smile at this, and as he did this, he saw a reflection on the bottom of the page. A drawing of Duck in perfect detail, smiling lovingly. He had seen himself smile before, but never an expression like this. _ ‘Shit, was I seriously making goo-goo eyes at him that whole time?’ _

Duck’s stomach dropped. Is that really how Indrid saw him? He scanned the paper again and noticed another caption under the picture of his face. It was smudged and lumpy, as if it had been written after the paper was uncrumpled. As he read it, his heart skipped a beat.

_ “Is Duck Newton in love with the Mothman?” _

Duck panicked, and nearly choked on his spit from the gasp he couldn’t fight. He held back a nervous laugh, and his face tried to smile and frown at the same time. He shakingly put the paper back and grabbed his jacket, making for the exit and swiftly as possible. He had no clue how to react.

He shut the door as softly as he could in his frenzied speed walk out. He sprinted back to his car as he put on his jacket, stumbling a bit in the snow as it stuck to the bottom of his book. He got in his car and started it, and started blasting the heat, with his mind still scrambled. He reached to zip up his jacket several times before realizing it was already zipped.

“Wait- wh” Duck spoke aloud, trying to gather what had just happened. “He promises? All I needed to–oh fuck. Does–is Duck Newton in love with the Mothman?” He couldn’t gather his words. He turned the heat on in the car and went silent for a second. He raised his shoulders and said,

“Well shit... is he?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction for anything ever! I know the title isn't that creative but recently I've become obsessed with this ship and I just had to write something for it! Let me know what you think!


End file.
